Walter Harland eBook

You remember the day Charley, when we were at school
at dear old Elmwood, when we were out at recess and
that poor old beggar-man who was nearly blind passed
the play-ground, and dropped his cane into the ditch.
Some of the thoughtless boys set up a laugh, but you
left your play and ran and picked up the cane and
placed it in his hand; and the old man patted your
head and said “I know you will make a good man,
my lad, if you live to grow up, for there is always
good in the boy who pays respect to the aged and helpless.”
The master who saw it all from the open window did
not forget to reprove the boys who laughed at the
poor old man, while at the same time he warmly commended
your kind act, “Take my word for it boys,”
said he “an act of kindness, or any mark of
respect to the old and feeble, will always leave a
feeling of happiness in your own hearts;” and
I know now that our teacher told the truth. Sometimes
grandmother calls me to read to her when I am busy
with study or play, and at first I do not feel inclined
to go, but I always do, and I feel more than paid
when I finish reading and she says, “thank you,
Walter, you are a good boy to remember poor old grandma
and I hope if you live to be old, and your eyes grow
dim like mine, some one will be as kind to you as
you are to me.” I don’t know how it
is, Charley, but some how I always feel happier after
reading to grandma Adams. Aunt Lucinda is Uncle
Nathan’s sister, you know; she keeps house; she
is a real go-a-head sort of woman, and a great worker;
she is older than Uncle Nathan, but, between you and
I, I don’t think she cares to hear that spoken
of, but it’s no harm for me to tell you.
She is so different in her ways from your mother and
mine that at first I hardly knew what to make of her.
She has a queer way of snapping people up short if
she isn’t just suited. For a long time
I was afraid Aunt Lucinda would never like me, she
seemed to have such a horror of boys—­may
be that’s the reason she never got married.
I have begun to think lately that I am gaining in
her good opinion and I am very glad of it. After
all she is kind-hearted, for all her queer ways; I
could get along better if she wasn’t so distressingly
neat and particular about the house. I tell you
if you lived with my Aunt, you’d have to remember
always to wipe your feet on the door-mat before coming
into the house; if you did happen to forget Aunt Lucinda
would sharpen up your memory, depend upon it.
When I first came here I really believe she thought
I should burn either the house or barn, perhaps both,
or commit some other enormity; but as no such occurrence
has as yet taken place, she begins to think, I believe,
that I am not so bad as I might be. In fact I
heard her tell Uncle Nathan the other day, that she
“would be real sorry if I was to go away, I
was such a help about the house, and so careful to
keep the chores all done up,” that was a great
deal for Aunt Lucinda to say in my favor; and I was
so pleased when I heard her that I wished there was